


When You and I Collide

by loverboytrashmouth



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Comedian Richie Tozier, Derry curse but no pennywise, Doctor Eddie Kaspbrak, During the 27 Years (IT), Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Young Adult Losers Club (IT), it's barely mentioned but i'm tagging it anyways, well just them two but you get it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:33:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29880492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loverboytrashmouth/pseuds/loverboytrashmouth
Summary: A 25-year-old Richie Tozier lives in NYC trying to start up his comedy career when a far too familiar face moves into his apartment building. The Derry Disease is alive and well so he doesn’t recognize it’s Eddie - and vice versa - until they collide. Literally.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	When You and I Collide

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple months ago and it's slightly worse than I remember it being but I hope y'all like it anyways :))

Richie didn’t think he was one of those annoying neighbors. He just enjoyed talking to and getting to know others. He’d always been insanely talkative, and being a stand up comedian now, talking was sort of the biggest part of his job description. Even off the stage of the dingy bars he’d been landing shows at to get his name out there, Richie was always talking. Stopping neighbors he shared an apartment complex with in the halls to ask about their day and their families, crack a couple jokes and plug his comedy shows, really anything he could think of in the moment. This apartment had been the first time Richie was living without sharing a space with anybody, and although he had been in the building for a year now, he still wasn’t used to the constant alone time. So he was always trying to find someone to talk to.

The majority of Richie’s neighbors welcomed his often inane conversations with warm smiles and nods, occasionally playing off his banter and joking with him back. The only ones that didn’t entertain him normally were a couple of stuck up young adults and an older grumpy man who visibly disapproved of Richie’s flamboyancy and the men he would see stroll out of the comedian’s apartment in the early mornings most weekends.

One Saturday morning after a show at his favorite spot and the crazy amount of drinking that ensued - it was his favorite spot because he could get away with getting shitfaced, since the bar was just down the block from his apartment. Ubers in the city were expensive enough, let alone on a Friday night in summer - Richie was awoken way earlier than he wanted to be by the sound of a loud vehicle outside his window. He was sure he wouldn’t be woken up by noises outside by now, thinking a year of living in Manhattan would make him immune. However in his drunken state the night before, Richie had forgotten to close the window in his tiny bedroom that overlooked what he swore was the busiest street in East Village, making the ruckus outside ten times louder than he had been used to it being.

After groggily throwing his thickly-rimmed glasses on his face, reaching for his phone on the nightstand, and seeing it was only a quarter to eight, about four hours after he had drunkenly slammed his head into his pillow, Richie groaned as he tore himself from his sheets to see who or what the hell was making so much noise this early on a weekend. As soon as he was on his feet he was able to peer out the window enough to see the top of a large white truck. He tiredly trudged closer to his window and wasn’t too surprised when he was greeted by the black letters spelling “U-HAUL” on the upper right hand corner of the truck. He had seen people moving in and out of his building in his short time living there more times than he could count. It was New York City, after all; there’s always someone from a random town in rural America wanting to live out their dreams in the big city. That’s why Richie had ended up there, anyways.

Knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with trying to go back to sleep, Richie decided to make some coffee to nurse the hangover that he had begun to notice. After deciding to shut his window, enjoying the breeze he was getting into his AC lacking room but becoming annoyed with the constant rumbling of the moving van downstairs, he pulled on his bathrobe as he walked into the open space of the rest of his apartment to start a pot of his favorite brew in the kitchen area. His place wasn’t exactly roomy, or even medium sized. It was quite small for a one bedroom, even for NYC standards, but Richie figured he already felt lonely enough in such a small space, anything bigger would feel even more off. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be like if his comedy career took off and he ended up in a big, fancy house without a husband or kids. It sounded like such torture to him.

Richie wasn’t that big of a breakfast guy, especially after a night of enough tequila shots that made him so fucked up to the point where he didn’t even bother looking for a guy to take home with him, so he simply leaned against his counter aimlessly scrolling through Twitter as his coffee brewed. As he grabbed his signature white mug with the words “your mom” printed across in bold red lettering and started pouring his first of many cups of caffeine, he began to hear loud thumping that seemed to be coming from a couple doors down. Richie’s curiosity always seemed to get the best of him, even when his head was pounding so hard he thought it might explode, so he found himself downing a couple of Aspirin he grabbed from his cabinet before opening his front door and looking out into the hall towards the direction he suspected the noise was coming from.

His suspicions had been correct. It seemed the moving truck that had rudely woken him up from his dead drunk sleep just about 20 minutes earlier had been for someone moving onto his floor. As he craned his neck around the corner of his door frame he saw a couple of toned young men carrying boxes into the apartment across the hall and down a couple doors that had been empty for the last couple of months, the last tenant having gotten evicted for some reason or other. Richie smirked and raised his eyebrows as he watched the movers carry things in and out of the newly occupied apartment, their muscles straining as they hauled belongings passed Richie, peaking the curly haired man’s interest. He still wasn’t enthusiastic about being woken up so early, but man was he glad for the show.

Suddenly, he faintly heard a man’s voice come from inside the apartment in the midst of the thumps of boxes being dropped.

“No, not there! Over to the side more. No! Are you insane? I could trip over that and get seriously injured. You wanna get sued?!”

Richie chuckled at the protests coming from who he assumed to be his new neighbor. Something about the frantic tone in his slightly higher pitched voice seemed wildly familiar to the comedian, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He took another large gulp of his coffee as the two muscular movers began walking down the hall, presumably outside to the truck to get more furniture and what not. They were shaking their heads and slightly rolling their eyes as they were followed by the man that was still screaming, telling them they’d better bring the next load of stuff in correctly or he’d be contacting their superiors. Richie’s eyes followed the man’s movements as he continued to follow the movers down the hall towards the stairwell, taking in what features he could of his new neighbor. He was shorter than Richie, seemingly by a good five or so inches. He had short feathery brown hair that bounced ever so slightly as his arms flailed while he continued to reprimand the other two about safety codes that weren’t being followed, and deep brown eyes Richie only caught a small glance of. The itch in his brain that told him he knew exactly who this smaller, safety concerned man was grew larger, but for whatever reason Richie still couldn’t pull an answer out of his mind. He shrugged the feeling off, thinking he’s probably just one of the many men he had hooked up with in the last year. Nevertheless, wanting to get at least acquainted with his new neighbor, Richie decided to say something to the man when he came back upstairs with a suitcase, intently watching the movers carrying a couch.

“Early worm catches the bird or something like that, I guess, right?” Richie spoke as he took another sip of his coffee, hoping to at least earn a chuckle. The man frantically walked past him, and without even glancing in Richie’s direction, he held up a rude hand, as if basically telling the comedian to shut the fuck up. Richie scoffed, his hangover making him more quickly irritable than he normally was. Seemed like another asshole in the building was going to be added to the Trashmouth Hate Club.

“You know if you’re gonna wake up your new neighbors at the ass crack of dawn on a Saturday, the least you can do is say a good morning or some shit,” he called out loudly in hopes it would reach wherever in his apartment the man was. With that Richie migrated back into his own apartment shutting his door behind him, just wanting to relax. And relax he did for the rest of the day, that is as much as he could with the noises of moving and frantic yelling that continued into the late afternoon.

\--

Richie would see his new neighbor every so often over the next couple of weeks either in the hallway or the lobby of their building, and every time he had attempted to strike up a conversation, or simply even render a reaction of any kind from the shorter man. He’d crack a one-liner, offer a simple greeting, or even just do that smile that white people gesture at each other in passing when they’re trying to be polite. Every time the mysterious neighbor just kept his head down, avoiding eye contact. Normally, Richie would have stopped pushing after the first couple of encounters or so, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this guy, really knew him, from somewhere. He never was able to get a good enough look at his face for the lightbulb to go off, and for some reason that frustrated him to no end. He was going to get the other man to acknowledge him eventually, no matter how many bad jokes it would take him to crack even the tiniest of smiles.

It took about a month or so after the new neighbor had moved in down the hall for that lightbulb in Richie’s mind to light up like a damn Christmas tree.

It was another Friday night comedy show for Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier at his favorite bar down the street. He was always down for a night of drinking like there was no tomorrow, but this particular Friday he was especially ready, his mind racing like mad about his neighbor more than usual for some reason all day. After what happened Richie thought maybe his brain was trying to tell him what he was in for that night.

His show wasn’t set to start until 10PM but Richie found his way out of his apartment at around 8PM, wanting to pregame a bit with his regular audience members beforehand. He liked having personal connections with his audience; it helped him forget that at the end of the night he was going to be returning to an empty home.

Richie took the elevator down from his place on the sixth floor to the lobby of the complex, tapping out a text to the bartender he was friends with to have a drink and a shot ready for him. He probably should have looked up from his phone once the doors of the elevator opened before stepping out, but of course he didn’t. He didn’t look up from his phone until after he collided with the person on the other side of the elevator entrance.

“Asshole,” the man he clashed with mumbled under his breath. It wasn’t until they moved ever so slightly apart and Richie finally looked up that he realized it was his new safety freak of a neighbor. He was finally getting a good look at him.

The shorter man’s eyes were a deeper and richer brown than Richie had thought they were with just a small glimpse at them earlier. Their collision made those brown eyes go wide with confusion and shock, making their beauty more obvious to Richie. He noticed a dusting of light freckles across his slightly tanned face with how close they were still standing to one another. Richie took a small step back, and that was when he took in the rest of his new neighbor. He was wearing a white lab coat with a shirt and tie underneath, indicating to Richie that he was probably some kind of doctor. His thoughts were confirmed as he looked down at the nametag neatly clipped to his lab coat pocket under his left shoulder. “Dr. E. Kaspbrak”

Kaspbrak. E. Kaspbrak. Richie knew that name.

Holy fuck.

“Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie breathed out with a chuckle, still looking at the nametag. Suddenly all of the memories started flooding back. The Losers Club. His hypochondriac best friend Eddie Kaspbrak that he hadn’t seen since their high school graduation.

And his first love. And sure enough, just as the memories had, the feelings began coming back as well, in a wave just as large.

Hearing the nickname that Eddie oh so hated when he was younger made his neck snap up and down, surveying the taller man, trying to figure out how the hell he knew who he was. The more he stared at the mop of curly black hair and the way it contrasted with his pale skin, and the more he thought back to those lame jokes this guy would say to him in passing that he tried his best to ignore but caught himself chuckling lightly to, the more he started to remember.

“Holy shit. Richie fucking Tozier,” Eddie finally let out, the shocked look plastered on his face refusing to die down even a little.

Richie couldn’t stop himself before he fully attacked Eddie into a hug, his touchy habits and lack of care for his best friend’s personal space taking over. The this time intentional collision had knocked Eddie back a few steps, moving the two out of the elevator threshold. It took Eddie a couple of seconds to fully process what was happening before he began hugging back, a small smile creeping on his face once it hit him how much he missed the best friend he had somehow forgotten about for the last six or so years. After letting the embrace linger for perhaps a couple seconds too long, the men broke apart chuckling, taking in one another.

“What are the fucking odds, man. Little Eddie bear in the big city. What the hell brought you here? Because I’m sure it wasn’t the beautifully clean streets,” Richie commented while he put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. He felt as though he needed to keep physical contact in some way or else the shorter man’s figure would start to vanish into thin air.

“Did you miss the white jacket or something, dipshit? I’m a doctor at a hospital downtown. What, are you here doing your little mom jokes for some sorry assholes that’ll actually listen to you, Trashmouth?” Eddie teased. Hearing the childhood nickname he still used for himself at comedy shows hit Richie differently when it came from Eddie’s mouth, causing a familiar warmth to grow inside his stomach as he adjusted his glasses, a nervous tick he had picked up around his crush during their adolescence.

“Hey, you fucking loved my jokes and you know it. Almost as much as Mrs. K loved this di-”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie said in disgust, placing his hand atop of Richie’s to take it off his shoulder. The warmth inside Richie grew larger as he laughed fondly. A couple beats of comfortable silence passed as the two continued to look at each other, still in awe that they had reconnected so randomly. No way did Richie believe in destiny or crap like that, but he couldn’t help but think that this situation was too amazing to simply be a coincidence. There had to be some kind of higher power involved to drop his best friend and love of his life in this specific apartment building, out of all the ones in this specific part of New York City alone.

“Speaking of my jokes,” Richie started, breaking the silence between the two, “I was just heading out to a show. You should come.” It wasn’t until he felt a sudden breeze on his hand and saw Eddie scratch the back of his neck that he realized they were basically holding hands that whole time. It felt so natural that neither of the men even bat an eye at the fact when it was happening. However, when their hands separated, Richie felt his face involuntarily get hot.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty tired, long day at the hospital.” Eddie spoke reluctantly, knowing the responsible thing to do would be to go upstairs to his shitty apartment and knock out before midnight. But Eddie was always being responsible and never having fun anymore, not since he left all his friends back in Derry. And with Richie “Trashmouth” fucking Tozier standing in front of him with that shit eating grin and those sparkling fucking eyes of his, Eddie began to remember how incapable he had always been at saying no to him.

“Come on, Eds. It’ll be fun! Plus, I need to see if you’re still the lightweight you were back in high school,” Richie commented with a smirk, earning a glare from Eddie. As incapable as Eddie was at saying no to Richie, he was just as incapable of backing down from a challenge from the taller man.

“You’re on, Trashmouth.”

\--

A few hours, a comedy set, and a decent amount of drinks later, Richie and Eddie continued catching up on how their lives had been since they both left the god forsaken town of Derry, Maine. Eddie knew it was considerably past his self-designated bed time, but he didn’t much care. All he found himself caring about that night was Richie. Richie, the boy from childhood that swore to always protect him no matter what, always making sure he was safe in the face of danger, and even carried an extra inhaler around with him in case Eddie were to lose his own, continuing to do so even after they found out his diagnosis was fake and he had been taking placebo medicine for thirteen years of his life. The same Richie he had fallen in love with as a pre-teen, that he didn’t realize until bumping into him at his new apartment complex that he never really fell out of love with. Eddie’s Richie.

Eddie didn’t realize he was staring fondly at Richie until he heard him speak from across their booth. “Like what ya see, Spaghetti?” Eddie was snapped out of his trance at the sound of Richie’s words, noticing the signature smirk and eyebrow wiggle that had always made his stomach do cartwheels. Eddie scoffed in fake annoyance that he tried to pass off as real, but Richie knew better.

“You know I hate that fuckin nickname,” Eddie retorted, not being able to hide the smile that crept up on his face, flushed from the copious amount of shots the two had taken. They were both nursing glasses of water at this point, agreeing they didn’t want to get fully shitfaced on their first night reunited and wanted to stay somewhat coherent. Despite this agreement, though, the two had drunk enough to be messes of slightly slurred sentences, crooked smiles, and flirty eyes.

“And you know that you secretly fucking love it.” Richie reached over the table and lightly pinched Eddie’s cheek, letting his hand linger on the other man’s warm skin for a moment. Eddie playfully smacked the hand away, claiming the little pinch hurt his cheek.

Richie sat back in his side of the booth the two shared, the smirk never leaving his trashmouth as he watched Eddie rub the spot on his face where Richie’s fingers had just been. At that moment, a thought popped into the comedian’s head.

“I got a question for ya, Eds,” Richie said in a slightly more serious tone that confused the other. Eddie furrowed his eyebrows and waved his hand, urging him to continue as Richie sat forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Is it just me, or did you also completely forget that I even existed until we literally crashed into each other?” Richie felt guilty admitting aloud to Eddie that the memories of their friendship hadn’t stayed with him, his anxieties rising when Eddie took a few beats of silence to answer his question. He was slightly relieved when the shorter man nodded his head in agreement.

“It’s weird, though. Now that I’m back with you, it’s…” Eddie trailed off, wondering to himself for a moment if he should actually say what had been rolling around in his mind all night. Richie’s stare refused to leave Eddie’s face, a look of anticipation behind his insanely thick glasses. Eddie looked into the other man’s eyes and thought fuck it.

“It’s like a hole has been filled, you know? A hole I didn’t even realize was there until I saw you again. I didn’t realize how empty I felt without you, Rich.” Eddie didn’t mean for that last sentence to come out right then and there; he wasn’t expecting to be so vulnerable with Richie so quickly. But something, probably having to do with the vodka flowing through his veins, made him want to tell the taller man everything and anything. A soft smile grew on Richie’s face, a hand dramatically going up to his chest, gripping his shirt where his heart was.

“You think that of lil old me? Aww shucks, you’re makin’ me blush,” Richie said to be funny, although there was some truth to it. His face was already hot from the alcohol, but he could always tell when he was starting to blush. And it always happened around Eddie.

Eddie shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m serious, asshole.” He then felt a sudden warmth on his hand that was resting on the table. He looked down to see Richie had reached over and taken his hand into his own, Richie’s fingers pressed to his palm, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into Eddie’s soft skin. Eddie looked up at the other man and their eyes met, both filled with adoration and locking in a stare that read thousands of untold feelings.

“I know, Eds. I know.”

He knew well enough. They both did.


End file.
